


The Only Thing

by cryptolonium



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6247642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptolonium/pseuds/cryptolonium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Testing was the only thing she was good for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Thing

She came to Aperture because she had nowhere else to go. They told her that all she had to do was do a few test runs to asses her “Compatibility with the Aperture brand”, whatever the hell that meant, and she’d get her sixty dollars. They told her that if she performed well, she would be eligible to participate in more studies. They told her she had gotten some odd results on her evaluation, and thanked her for her time. They told her a lot of things, but they hadn’t told her they would keep her locked up as a “backup”. Apparently once you’d gone through your assessment, you couldn’t be trusted not to talk. 

The first time, she hadn’t expected to be woken up. She hadn’t expected to be greeted by an unfamiliar computer. She certainly hadn’t expected everyone to be dead. 

She thought she had won.

The second time, she wasn’t surprised. She didn’t even raise an eyebrow when she was greeted by a metal beach ball with a British accent, that her “relaxation vault” had gone through hundreds of years of damage. For all she knew, this was just another test. 

They found a portal gun in what she could only describe as a flooded chapel, a shrine to her and her victory over the robot (she assumed it was a robot of some kind). She wondered, briefly, if whoever did these was the same person who had given her instructions the first time, who’s dens had given her her first hint that not all was well within Aperture. They must have been practicing, these were quite a bit better that the crude sketches of cameras and cubes done all in reddish paint. She chose to believe it was paint. She didn’t bother to wonder what had happened to the artist, if they were still alive, how they knew her story or why they cared. 

Against her will, her body relaxed when confronted with the familiar weight of the gun. If she had to test to get out again, she’d test. 

Testing was the only thing she was good for.


End file.
